


Illness-Induced Idiocy

by InsightfulInsomniac



Category: Glee
Genre: Blam, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Sick Fic, but not graphic, like so much blam, literally just Blam being sick together, married!klaine, tw vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-10 23:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20143453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsightfulInsomniac/pseuds/InsightfulInsomniac
Summary: The morning before Kurt’s supposed to leave for a week-long work trip to Paris with Isabelle, Blaine suddenly becomes sick. However, despite Kurt’s protesting, Blaine insists that he still goes. Besides, Sam’s coming up to New York for the week; he won’t be alone, and they’ll be fine.Very quickly into their Blam bro week, Sam catches whatever horrible virus Blaine has. Needless to say, they’re pretty hilariously helpless.Just so much Blam and fluffy Klaine. The sick fic we never knew we needed!





	Illness-Induced Idiocy

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said that my next fic would be an extension of my “everyone walking in on Klaine” fic, but that’s been put on hold thanks to random ideas like this one!
> 
> Enjoy the Blam!

At the sound of his annoyingly insistent alarm, Kurt rolls out of Blaine’s embrace and turns it off, barely able to resist just falling back onto his pillow and going back to sleep. The unusual motivation to get out of bed lies in the fact that he’s leaving for France in just a few hours, a commitment that requires him to get up at 4:30 in the morning.

After Kurt and Blaine moved back to New York, Isabelle quickly offered Kurt a part-time summer job back at Vogue. He’s basically working as her glorified assistant again, but with a little more flexibility and a lot more influence. One of the many opportunities that Isabelle has provided him this summer is to accompany her to Paris for a week of design consultation with some French designers.

At first, Kurt was reluctant to agree, knowing that he and Blaine aren’t even a year into their marriage. They hadn’t spent even a full day apart since they got married, and a week seemed like a big jump. But unlike before, Kurt immediately brings up these worries to Blaine, and Blaine insists that Kurt has to go.

They’ll miss each other, sure, but it’s nothing they can’t handle. Besides, Blaine took this opportunity to invite Sam up to New York for the week, with it now being summer and both of their schedules temporarily freed.

Needless to say, while it’s a big step for them, both parties are excited.

Blaine told Kurt the night before that he wants to wake up with him to spend the last hour together before he leaves for the airport. Thus, despite the hesitation at how peaceful Blaine looks while he’s sleeping, Kurt gently shakes his husband awake.

“Blaine,” Kurt murmurs as Blaine stirs, instinctively reaching out for him. “I’m leaving in a little over an hour. Time to get up.”

“C’mere,” Blaine mumbles, sleepily gesturing for Kurt to curl into him. “Lemme hold you ‘fore you go.”

Kurt smiles softly, letting himself be wrapped in his warm embrace. “I’ll miss you a lot, you know.”

“Miss you too,” Blaine yawns, finally blinking his eyes open. “So much. I can’t believe I have to go a week without you.”

“I can stay home,” Kurt replies, though he already knows Blaine’s response.

Sure enough, Blaine shakes his head resolutely. “No. Go. I’ll survive; it’ll just make your return that much sweeter.”

Kurt hums happily as Blaine maneuvers them so he’s hovering over him, grinning brightly in the soft light of the New York streets that filters in through their windows. His heart catches in his throat for a moment at the thought of how much he loves this man, and how much he’s really going to miss him.

“You’re so pretty,” Kurt comments absentmindedly, reaching a hand up to card his fingers gently through his husband’s unkempt curls. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Blaine replies, and Kurt lets his hands slowly drift down Blaine’s torso, his fingers dipping under the back of the waistband of his underwear.

“We don’t have that much time,” Blaine remarks, but not without a smile that tells Kurt that he’d run a marathon right now if he just asked him to.

“We’ve been fast before,” Kurt responds teasingly. “Besides, it’s the last time we’ll see each other for a week.”

“Don’t remind me,” Blaine groans, but dips down to kiss Kurt anyway.

Kurt’s just about to tug off Blaine’s boxer briefs when his husband jolts against him suddenly, frantically breaking their kiss and scrambling off the bed. Without explanation, Blaine sprints into the bathroom, and once Kurt gets his wits about him, he finds his husband bent over the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach.

Worry washes over Kurt in droves as he realizes that in an hour, he’s going to be leaving his obviously sick husband for Paris. Something seems incredibly wrong about that, so Kurt immediately makes up his mind — as soon as he gets Blaine set back up in bed, he’s going to call Isabelle and explain why he can’t come on such short notice. Certainly she’ll understand.

Kurt rubs Blaine’s back through his heaving, offering him a towel to wipe his mouth on when he finally sits back against the wall, covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“I didn’t think my morning breath was that bad,” Kurt jokes gently, and Blaine’s lips tilt up into a feeble smile.

“It’s not you. My stomach was feeling weird yesterday, but I just assumed it was something I ate. Guess not.”

He sighs, glancing up towards the sink. “Would you pass me the mouthwash?”

Kurt nods, pouring a cupful and handing it to Blaine, who immediately swishes it around in his mouth and spits it in the toilet.

Noting the worry evident on his husband’s face, Blaine rests his clammy hand on Kurt’s knee. “I’m fine. It’s probably just some 24-hour bug. I’m just sad I ruined our last hour together.”

“You did no such thing,” Kurt insists. “And I’m not going. There’s no way I’m leaving you in this state!”

Blaine shakes his head. “Just help me back to bed and I’ll be good! You have to go, seriously. I’m an adult; I’ll be fine!”

“You’re obviously sick,” Kurt retorts. “And I can’t leave you in good faith. I’ll call Isabelle; she’ll definitely understand.”

“Kurt,” Blaine levels a look at him. “You have to go. I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ll call and warn Sam that I’m not feeling the best, but you and I both know that nothing will deter him from coming up here. So really, I won’t be alone for more than a few hours this morning.”

Kurt sighs. “Fine. But I’ll be checking in with you regularly. If for some reason you get super sick and I can’t get home right away, call my parents. They’ll drive up here.”

“Okay,” Blaine agrees. “I’ll keep that in mind. But I’m sure Sam and I will be fine.”

Reluctantly, after making sure Blaine’s comfortable in bed with water, saltines, medicine, and a nearby trash can, Kurt grabs his already packed suitcase and slings his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home?” Kurt asks for the hundredth time, and Blaine shakes his head again.

“No. Go have fun in Paris,” he smiles. “Try not to worry about me too much. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Kurt says uncertainly, but crosses the room to Blaine anyway. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Blaine replies, and against his better judgement, Kurt leans down to plant a lingering kiss on his husband’s lips.

“Please don’t get sick in France because of me,” Blaine remarks, but not without a bright grin. “Seriously, go disinfect your mouth with mouthwash or something.”

“Nope,” Kurt shrugs, popping the p. “If I get sick, I’ll just have to fly home and be with you.”

“I swear to god, Kurt, please don’t get yourself purposely sick.”

“I’m just teasing,” Kurt smiles. “But there was no way I was going to leave without kissing you. Whatever consequences I face are worth it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Blaine chuckles. “Now get out of here before you miss your flight! I’ll meet you at the airport when you get back if I’m not too sick.”

“Okay. Bye, babe,” Kurt calls as he walks out of the bedroom. “I love you!”

“I love you too!”

As soon as he hears his husband exit their apartment, Blaine groans, his chipper act completely shattering now that he’s alone. He didn’t want Kurt to worry too much, so he mustered up whatever strength he could manage and put on a cheerful face.

In reality, Blaine feels like death.

Typing out a quick text to Sam about his current condition, Blaine then attempts to get a few more hours of fitful sleep, waking up to a text from Sam saying that he’s absolutely still coming, and that he’s bringing chicken noodle soup and ginger ale.

At just around noon, after Blaine had thrown up twice again simply from attempting to drink some water, Sam calls him.

“Hey, buddy, I’m here!”

“Just come on up,” Blaine groans, forcing himself out of bed to unlock the door. He knows he must look like a wreck, clad in a sweat-soaked t-shirt and old pajama pants.

“Okay! See you in a sec.”

As soon as Blaine opens the door for Sam, his best friend moves to hug him, then notices his appearance and immediately steps back. “Oh my god, dude. You look horrible!”

Blaine snorts. “Thanks. I think it’s called ‘I can’t stop puking’ chic.”

Sam gently rests his hand on Blaine’s forehead. “I think you’re running a fever, too. Have you taken any medicine?”

Blaine shakes his head. “No. I can’t keep water down; how am I supposed to keep medicine down?”

“Well, it’s worth a shot,” Sam claps his hands together. “Go get back in bed, and I’ll be right there!”

When Sam enters the bedroom a few moments later, Blaine accepts the medicine and water with an apologetic smile. “Thanks. I’m sorry this isn’t going to be the Blam week we were planning on.”

Sam grins. “Nah, it’s no big deal! We can just watch Marvel movies and read Star Wars fanfiction, just like old times.”

“You’re the best,” Blaine replies. “Why don’t we get set up in the living room and throw on a movie? I think I’m okay enough to move right now.”

It turns out, Blaine is very, very wrong. Two steps out of the bedroom, Blaine has to stumble right into the nearby bathroom, finding himself bent over the toilet yet again.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t keep anything down,” Sam grimaces sympathetically as Blaine washes out his mouth at the sink. “But you should still try to eat or drink every now and then. Can’t let you get dehydrated.”

“If Kurt knew just how much of a mother hen you are, I think he would’ve been even more comfortable leaving me this morning,” Blaine jokes weakly, dragging himself over to the couch. “But I really appreciate it, Sam.”

“No problem. You’re my best buddy! In sickness and in health, right?”

“Considering we’re basically an old married couple, absolutely.”

******

Slowly but surely, Blaine began to be able to eat small amounts of bland food without becoming immediately sick, and the frequency of his vomiting-episodes decreased over the next day or two. His fever, however, decided to linger, which Blaine thinks is entirely unfair, considering how badly his immune system has already betrayed him.

But at least he’s not violently sick to his stomach.

That’s what he tells himself when he gets up to grab some applesauce for breakfast, finding Sam still asleep on the couch. By the time he’s done pouring his applesauce into a bowl, Sam’s stirring on the couch, opening his eyes sleepily.

“Hey, Sam,” Blaine greets, wincing as he swallows. His throat has been a little tender as well, but hey, what’s one more ailment.

“Hey —“ Sam looks like he was going to say more, but suddenly bolts off the couch and runs to the bathroom, and Blaine understands before he even hears the horrible retching sounds he’s become very familiar with.

Sighing, Blaine opens a nearby bottle of ibuprofen and pops two pills into his mouth, chasing them with water before he goes to check on his friend.

When he reaches the bathroom, Sam glances up at Blaine. “Well, looks like we’re barf buddies now.”

Blaine would literally facepalm if his head didn’t hurt so much right now. At least Sam seems to be getting some amusement out of it all, if the way he’s smiling semi-deliriously at Blaine is any indication.

“I think I got what you have,” Sam then remarks, and Blaine nods slowly.

“Yeah. I think so too.”

******

Two hours later, deciding it would be much more bearable if they can at least keep each other company, Blaine and Sam are propped up next to each other in bed, watching Netflix on Blaine’s laptop. Realistically, they could’ve stayed on the couch, but the bed just seemed so much more comfortable.

“Sam, I swear to god, stop stealing the covers,” Blaine comments, tugging the blankets back around himself as he simultaneously scoots farther into Sam’s side in search of warmth.

Sam wraps an arm around him and pulls him close, trying to situate the covers around their shivering bodies. “I’m trying, man. I’m just so cold.”

“Me too,” Blaine replies. “I just want this fever to break.”

“You’re reading my mind.”

There’s silence for a few more minutes as they watch Hercules, the latest Disney movie on their watchlist.

“Do you think Kurt would be jealous that we’re snuggling right now?” Sam remarks randomly, and Blaine snorts.

“Are you kidding me? I think he’d just be happy that we each have someone equally as germ-infected who we can platonically cuddle with for warmth.”

“Good,” Sam says. “Because this is the first time I’ve been somewhat warm all day, and I don’t want to let it go to waste.”

“God, me neither.”

******

The next day, Sam finally feels like he could potentially keep some food down, though both he and Blaine are still running a bad fever. They both agree that chicken noodle soup would be a great choice for lunch, but since they have been housebound all week, they have no ingredients to make it, and the few cans that Sam brought with him have long since been eaten.

“There’s a sandwich shop about a two minute walk from here,” Blaine looks up from his phone about twenty minutes after they first decided they wanted soup for lunch. “Apparently they make chicken noodle soup. Do you want to walk there, or should I?”

“Let’s flip a coin,” Sam decides. “Cause I don’t want to, but I know you don’t want to either.”

“Good idea,” Blaine nods, walking back to the bedroom to grab a quarter out of his wallet. “Okay, what do you want?”

“Heads,” Sam calls, and Blaine flips the coin and catches it on the back of his hand.

“Dammit,” he curses, seeing tails as soon as he lifts his hand. “If I’m not back in less than a twenty minutes, come find me, because I’ve definitely passed out somewhere.”

“I’ve got your back,” Sam nods, but slumps back onto the sofa, looking like he’s just one dizzy spell away from collapsing himself.

“Yeah,” Blaine mutters, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. He’s only planning to wait until his head stops spinning, but Sam speaks up from the couch suddenly.

“Uh, are you okay, Blaine?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? Just trying to psych myself up to leave.”

“You’ve been standing there for five minutes,” Sam deadpans. “You know, we can just eat toast for lunch again if you’re not feeling good enough.”

“No, I’m going,” Blaine grits his teeth and pushes open the door, mustering his resolve to walk two minutes to get some soup.

Just over ten minutes later, Blaine wields the plastic bag containing their lunch like a trophy as he re-enters his apartment, Sam cheering as he sits up from the couch.

“You got the goods!”

“I got the goods!”

“You didn’t die!”

“I didn’t die!”

“I’m so proud of you!”

Blaine laughs, coughing on the end of it. “I feel like I went to war and it was only a ten minute trip for some soup. God, I hope this soup is good.”

“I’ll go get bowls and spoons.”

Blaine hasn’t seen Sam move that fast in days.

******

Blaine and Sam decide to sleep in the same bed that night, the next night... and the next night. The shared warmth is the only thing keeping them asleep, because the fever-induced chills have been quite the monster to them both. Blaine almost forgets that the next morning, Kurt’s going to be back — he didn’t forget because he doesn’t want him to be back, though maybe he should tell Kurt to take another week’s vacation so he doesn’t get infected upon returning to what is now their cesspool of an apartment.

So, he texts him just that.

Kurt responds almost immediately.

**Kurt**: Don’t be ridiculous. I’m excited to see you, germs and all! I’ve missed you a lot.

**Blaine**: I’ve missed you a lot too. But I’m afraid these germs have also missed having a host that is not Sam or I, so you are an at risk individual.

**Kurt**: I’ll take my chances. Don’t come to the airport, okay? I’ll be home before you even wake up.

**Blaine**: Okay. I love you <3

**Kurt**: I love you too <3 sweet dreams!

“Turn your phone off. Too bright,” Sam mumbles, burying his face in the pillow next to Blaine. “Sleep time.”

Blaine barely even remembers if he responds, because he’s out like a light as soon as he sets his phone on the nightstand.

******

Kurt’s exhausted after a long flight, but he knows that he’s going to have to start cleaning as soon as he gets back into the apartment if he wants to avoid being sick. For as much as he told Blaine he doesn’t care about the consequences, he really, _really_ doesn’t want to get whatever virus his husband has (and apparently gave to Sam).

Sure enough, Blaine isn’t awake when Kurt finally gets home, and Kurt immediately notices the clutter — dirty dishes, empty tissue boxes, and random bottles of medicine strewn about the apartment. He can definitely tell that Blaine tried to keep things in order (even though that is a much bigger idiosyncrasy for Kurt than for him), noting the lineup of clean mugs on the dish drying rack that were evidently used for tea.

It’s incredibly endearing, because Kurt would never expect him to attempt to clean up with how sick he’s been. He can’t help the little smile that stretches across his face as he makes his way back to the bedroom to wake his poor, ill husband.

When he opens the door to the bedroom, he almost gasps in shock, but that turns into a laugh as soon as he realizes what’s going on in the scene in front of him.

Sam’s sprawled out on Kurt’s typical side of the bed, half-covered in blankets as Blaine grips the other end of them with one hand, the other arm flung across Sam’s chest. They look like they’ve had the most fitful night of sleep, complete with a blanket war.

Pulling out his phone, Kurt snaps a picture of the two best friends, unable to stop from giggling at them again. Honestly, it’s adorably pathetic, especially when seeing that Blaine’s sleeping with his mouth open, snoring lightly — a sure sign that he’s so stuffed up he can’t breathe out of his nose.

“Blaine,” Kurt murmurs as he brushes his husband’s curls back from his forehead. “Blaine, honey. Wake up.”

Blaine stirs, blinking his eyes open slowly. “You’re back?”

“I’m back,” Kurt grins, sitting on the edge of the bed. Blaine scoots closer to him, resting his head on his lap and wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Missed you,” Blaine remarks, eyes fluttering shut again as he drowsily turns his head and presses a kiss to Kurt’s thigh. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, I did,” Kurt replies softly, scratching his fingers over Blaine’s scalp. “But I’ll tell you about it later. How are you feeling?”

“Better now that you’re here,” Blaine smiles, eyes still closed. “I’m on the upswing. I think my fever broke in the middle of the night, because I went to bed with a shirt on and woke up shirtless and sweaty.”

Kurt chuckles, resting a hand on Blaine’s forehead. “I think you’re right.”

“Sam’s probably still pretty bad; he got it later than me, obviously,” Blaine explains. “Sorry if it makes you uncomfortable that we’re sleeping in the same bed. Full disclosure, we’ve been cuddling for warmth for practically the entire week. Like penguins.”

Kurt laughs quietly. “You know I’m not bothered by it. I think it’s cute, actually.”

“That’s what I figured. Sam was just a little worried.”

Sam suddenly rolls over, reaching out to pat around for Blaine. “You okay? D’you say m’name?”

“I’m fine,” Blaine chuckles, finally fully awake as he pulls himself up to sit propped against the headboard. “I was just talking to Kurt.”

“Kurt’s here?” Sam asks, voice muffled as his face is still planted firmly in a pillow.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Kurt grins. “I’m sorry you got sick, Sam.”

“S’okay. Blaine and I were sick buddies,” Sam lifts his head off of the pillow, turning to Kurt. “You’re not mad at me for cuddling with Blaine, right? I promise I don’t want to steal your husband.”

Kurt laughs again as Blaine rolls his eyes amusedly. “No, Sam. It’s perfectly alright.”

“Okay, cool,” Sam flops down into the pillow again.

“Sam, when’s your flight out of here?” Blaine questions, and Sam groans.

“5:30 pm. Is that okay?”

“You can stay longer if you need to,” Kurt offers, and Sam waves him off, face still in the pillow.

“Nah. Issa short flight. M’fine.”

“Okay. But we have to set a date for you to come back before summer’s over so we can spend time with you when you and Blaine aren’t sick,” Kurt requests, and Sam gives him a thumbs up.

“Sounds good. Can I sleep some more?”

Blaine snorts. “Go for it, buddy. We’ll wake you up for lunch.”

Just like that, Sam’s snoring again.

“I’ll wash the bedding as soon as he leaves,” Blaine comments, and Kurt leans in to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll help. You still need to take it easy.”

“I can manage,” Blaine replies, moving to get out of bed. “But first, I need a shower.”

“Funny, so do I,” Kurt jokes, reaching a hand out to steady his shaky husband. “You know what, I think we should take one together just so I can make sure you don’t fall.”

“I missed you,” Blaine beams. “So much.”

“Me too,” Kurt agrees, planting another kiss to Blaine’s cheek. He’ll work up the courage to kiss him properly eventually. They’ve waited a week, he can wait until Blaine’s fully medicated and cleared by a thermometer.

**Author's Note:**

> Let’s be real. On more than one occasion, Sam has cuddled with both Kurt and Blaine at the same time. Movie nights with Klaine and Sam are just a cuddle pile.
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @zigxzag-klaine


End file.
